


so we're slaves to any semblance of touch

by mygalfriday (BrinneyFriday)



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 14:55:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6012757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrinneyFriday/pseuds/mygalfriday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’d last made love to River Song centuries ago in another body. This body is a bit rusty when it comes to all things physical. He’s already getting used to reaching for her hand or settling a palm at the small of her back to guide her but the rest of it is slower to resurface.</p>
            </blockquote>





	so we're slaves to any semblance of touch

**Author's Note:**

> Story title from Sedated by Hozier. 
> 
> I wanted to post something today but nothing I'm working on is quite ready yet so I wrote this quickly this afternoon. Shameless 'first time on Darillium' smut. Happy Valentine's Day;)

 

After dinner, River leans into his side as they walk back to the TARDIS, the curves of her soft and close, her small hand sneaking beneath his jacket to press against his back. Her palm is hot through his shirt and he feels his mouth go dry. Swallowing, the Doctor glances at her.

 

River turns her head and meets his gaze, smiling softly up at him. She’s been looking at him like that all night – quietly giddy and affectionate, as sweet as River Song ever gets. She’s been casting him coy glances and brushing her foot against his ankle beneath the table as they ate. When dessert came, she’d scooped up the whipped topping with her finger and wrapped her lips around it with unmistakable suggestiveness.

 

It’s been a very long time but he knows what all of her little signals mean. And it’s absolutely fucking terrifying him. Not because he doesn’t want it – Christ, does he ever _want_ – but because of the mere fact that it _has_ been so very long. He’d last made love to River Song centuries ago in another body. This body is a bit rusty when it comes to all things physical.

 

He’s already getting used to reaching for her hand or settling a palm at the small of her back to guide her but the rest of it is slower to resurface. He just wishes his body would hurry up and cooperate with his mind because while his mind has been screaming for him to strip her out of that dress all night, his hands shake at the mere thought. If he isn’t careful, the disconnect is going to give River the wrong idea.

 

Some of his anxiety must bleed into his expression because as they approach the TARDIS doors in the restaurant lobby, River slows to a stop. Hand slipping from his back, she presses her fingers to his tie instead and says, “You’ve got that face on.”

 

His brow furrows. “What face?”

 

“The ‘I’m afraid this strange woman is going to molest me’ face.” She says it teasingly but he knows her well enough to sense the underlying hurt. “Haven’t seen it in a while. Bit insulting, considering how old you are.”

 

He bristles, lifting a hand to cover hers on his chest as he insists, “I did not have a face for that.”

 

“Oh no?” She lifts a brow at him, her smile soft and pained around the edges. “You’re wearing it right now.”

 

She knows him too well – he forgets sometimes, particularly when he’s been without her for a while. River Song can read every single one of his faces like an open book. She understands everything he doesn’t say – every arch of his brow, every twitch of his mouth, every word he keeps contained behind his clenched teeth.

 

He sighs. “It’s not like that.”

 

“What is it like?”

 

She doesn’t pull her hand away, leaving it resting beneath his against his chest. He’s quietly grateful for it, stroking his thumb over her skin and marveling at how patient she has become with age. His clever wife – acting the dutiful nurse and the dutiful spouse to her robot husband, waiting for the right moment to extract his head; letting Flemming goad her and read her diary aloud to a room full of people, waiting for the moment she knew he would die. It seems the only thing she’s never been willing to wait for is him.

 

Until now, at any rate.

 

Now she’s looking at him like there is nothing more important than whatever he has to say. It’s such a rare occurrence he takes a moment to savor it, drinking in the way her eyes search his face and her body leans subconsciously toward his. He licks his lips, struggling to meet her gaze. “It’s been – quite a while and it’s – it’s difficult. But I want – I want -” He sighs, hands clenching at his sides.

 

River presses a hand to his cheek. “What, Doctor? What do you want?”

 

“You,” he says simply, and she stares at him. “Rather a lot, actually.”

 

“Well, you do know how to sweep a girl off her feet, sweetie,” she teases, her eyes softening in relief. “We’ll take things slow, shall we?”

 

Too stunned by her easy agreement to nod, the Doctor can only watch dumbly as she drops her hand from his face and takes a step back like she isn’t going to press him further tonight. She’s giving him space and as selfless a gesture as that is for River, it isn’t what he wants. He doesn’t want her to back off. He wants her to take what she wants as usual and ignore him when he’s undoubtedly rubbish at it all. He wants her to know his reticence has nothing to do with not wanting her – that he wants her to pin his trembling hands to the bed and make him beg until he forgets he hasn’t done this in a while.

 

River isn’t getting that. She’s moving away and taking the heady warmth of her along with her. The Doctor panics – she hasn’t stopped touching him all evening and he hasn’t wanted her to, drunk on her nearness. She’s sobering him up rather quickly now and as his head begins to clear, he reaches out and snatches her wrist. River breathes in sharply, staring at his fingers digging into her skin.

 

“Doctor-”

 

“Shut it,” he grumbles, and pulls until she steps into him again, her eyes wide and uncomprehending. The moment she’s close enough, he dips his head and kisses her.

 

It isn’t the slow, tender kiss they’d shared briefly on the balcony before dinner. It’s rough and clumsy and he accidentally bites her but River seems to like that. She whimpers into his mouth and clutches the lapel of his coat, pressing against him. Encouraged, the Doctor lets go of her wrist and cradles her head in his palm. Her curls coil around his fingers – her hair always tried to eat his hand when he’d pet it and he’d forgotten that, _how_ had he forgotten that? – and he makes a desperate noise against her lips.

 

His other hand drops to the small of her back, gathering the fabric of her dress in his fist and clutching her to him like she might slip away. River doesn’t seem keen on going anywhere, her fingers caressing the side of his face and her mouth hot and slick under his. She tastes like champagne and decadence, that underlying River-ness that always reminds him of Gallifrey lurking underneath it all.

 

River pulls away first, gasping as she buries her face in the crook of his neck and slowly begins to uncurl her fingers from his coat. Her breath trembles against his skin as she asks, “What was that for?”

 

One hand still tangled in her hair, the Doctor licks his tingling lips and admits, “You moved away. I didn’t want you to.”

 

Her laughter is soft and hoarse, muffled against his throat. “And you couldn’t just say that?”

 

He lifts a brow, glancing down at the top of her head. “Are you complaining?”

 

“Not a bit, honey.” She lifts her head and his breath catches at the sight of her flushed cheeks and glittering eyes, her kiss-swollen mouth. “Just surprising, that’s all.”

 

His lips curl in a smug grin and he realizes distantly that his earlier anxiety has all but disappeared. He’d been so desperate to keep her close that he’d forgotten all about his own misgivings. River’s kisses have always had a bit of magic in them. Lazarus kisses, he used to call them – enough to bring a man back from the dead. “You haven’t begun to be surprised, River Song.”

 

“Oh? What’s next? A magic trick?”

 

He scowls.

 

River smirks. “Got a wand? Or are you going to saw me in half?”

 

“I’ll let you be the judge of that,” he mutters, relishing the way her eyes widen.

 

“Did you just –” She looks torn between scandalized and delighted, her nose crinkling adorably. “Was that _innuendo_?”

 

Smug once more, he says, “Told you I’d surprise you.”

 

She laughs softly. “What else have you got up your sleeve then?”

 

To be honest, he’s much more interested in what’s beneath her dress but –

 

River’s lips part in shock and he frowns, concerned. “What?”

 

“Nothing,” she says, still looking rattled. “I just think we should leave the restaurant before you see what’s under my dress, darling.”

 

Fuck. “Out loud?”

 

“Just a bit.” River grins. “You know, I wasn’t sure this body of yours would care about such things.”

 

“It doesn’t,” he admits, nudging his nose against her cheek. “Not usually.” River is different though – she’s always been different. He’d known right from the beginning that she would be his exception to every rule.

 

She hums, sounding pleased. “Like me, do you?”

 

“Just a bit,” he parrots, grin widening when she huffs. “Take me to bed, wife?”

 

“Darling,” she sighs, pulling back to smile at him. “I thought you’d never ask.”

 

The moment they slip into the TARDIS and shut the doors behind them, River is in his arms again and for the life of him he couldn’t say whether he pulled her to him or if she stepped into him first but it hardly matters. The only thing that does matter is that she’s real and she’s here and he gets another chance – to be a husband, to do it all properly.

 

They stumble together through the control room and down the first TARDIS corridor toward their bedroom. He has no idea where it is now. He hasn’t been inside their room in centuries, not since she left after Manhattan and never came back. His hearts lurch at the thought before he reminds himself it’s all in the past. He’s done dwelling on it. Now is so much better. Now is River sifting her fingers through his hair and sucking on his bottom lip with a little moan that makes heat coil in places he’d forgotten all about. Now is feeling dizzy and wobbly-kneed and wondering if he’ll ever breathe again without recalling the scent of her.

 

Navigating the corridors is a bit difficult considering neither of them is willing to let go or stop snogging long enough to see where they’re going and they bump into things and stumble and laugh into each other’s mouths every time. The Doctor finally allows his itching hands to wander – tearing away River’s feathered shawl, the pins in her hair following quickly after. The fabric of her dress catches on his calloused palms as he moves them over her body. He maps her curves with no particular destination in mind but River grasps his wrist impatiently and guides his hand to her breast.

 

Rumbling _bad girl_ against her mouth and relishing her low chuckle, the Doctor squeezes the firm, full weight of her in his palm. River bites her lip, latching onto the front of his coat and tugging him with her toward the nearest wall. They collide with it gracelessly, mouths crashing together again as the Doctor finds her nipple with his thumb and flicks it through the fabric.

 

River groans, head falling back and bumping the wall behind her. Oh he remembers that groan very well – that little noise she makes when she can’t decide if she’s more impatient or turned on. Lips twitching, the Doctor pulls his hand away. River cracks open one eye to glare at him and he shushes her, lips brushing her jaw as he fumbles behind her for the zip on her dress. It isn’t enough to touch her through the damn thing anymore – he wants to see her. He wants to feel that golden skin under his hands again, under his tongue.

 

His wife doesn’t make it easy to focus on something that’s normally as straightforward as unzipping a dress. She’s endlessly distracting when she isn’t even trying but when she _is_ there’s not a power on earth or in heaven that could tear his attention from her. The Doctor curses under his breath as she rolls her hips sinfully against him. She makes certain to linger, grinding against his erection and letting him feel the heat of her through her dress. It isn’t enough to satisfy, not even enough to allow him to savor the friction – just enough to make his eyes roll back in his head and his breath stutter in his lungs and then she’s gone, leaning against the wall and smirking at him.

 

Fucking hell, there’s not a bit of mercy in that grin.

 

The Doctor growls and yanks her zipper down the last bit, tugging at the bodice until it falls away. The fabric hangs around her waist and reveals her heaving chest to him, the dusky pink points of her nipples begging for his mouth on them. Christ, she’s perfect. Not even his memories had done her justice.

 

He swallows thickly, sliding his hand up her ribs and along her side in a caress that makes her squirm. He traces the swell of her breast with his fingertips and as her breathing hitches in anticipation, he struggles to keep his damned hands from shaking – she’s really here and she’s gorgeous and bare and _his_. By the time he cups her in his palm, it’s impossible to delay the urge any longer. The Doctor surges forward to latch his mouth onto her. River cries out, arching into him eagerly, her hand finding its way into his hair and holding on.

 

 _Fuck_ he’d missed that noise, that sexy, guttural sound low in her throat. He quickly goes about the task of getting her to make the sound again and rediscovers the delightful noises she makes when he uses his teeth to scrape her sensitive nipples. Her hips buck involuntarily against his and he smirks against her skin, biting his way across her collarbone. He used to keep score, he remembers – a point for him every time he’d made River Song lose control.

 

It hadn’t happened nearly often enough to suit him and he plans to remedy that this time around. As his thumbnail circles her nipple teasingly and his tongue traces the hollow of her throat, he realizes somewhere along the way, he’d entirely forgotten about wanting her to pin him down and take what she liked. He doesn’t need that anymore. His last, inhibited body had needed that. This one, he’s starting to realize, needs something altogether different.

 

He feels as though River has ignited something in him – as if this body hadn’t known what it wanted or even who he was until she came along and showed him. He isn’t the sexually bashful young face she’d first married. He has been forged in loss and grief and the absence of her. He has matured in ways he hadn’t even realized until now and he can feel that last bit of his old self slipping away.

 

He sinks to his knees before her, already grasping her skirt and pushing it up with trembling hands. He wants her. And he isn’t afraid to show her how much.

 

River drops her head back against the wall, her heaving chest covered in bite marks as she sighs out, “God yes, honey. Show me.”

 

The Doctor pauses with her skirt around her knees, frowning. The thinking out loud is going to need some work. But it’ll keep, he thinks as River spreads her legs. It’ll definitely keep. He returns his attention to the sparkling skirt of her dress currently keeping him from what he wants most and growls at it, shoving it away. River laughs breathlessly, helping him hitch it up around her waist to reveal her thighs to him

 

His breath hisses out through his teeth when he realizes she isn’t wearing knickers and he turns his glare on her. “Little warning next time, dear?”

 

She watches him with her bottom lip caught between her teeth, her eyes glittering with arousal and amusement. “And miss the way your eyes nearly popped out of your head? I don’t think so, darling.”

 

He huffs and nips at her thigh sharply in punishment, which of course, only seems to thrill her, the damned minx. “It’s all fun and games until your husband’s hearts give out,” he mutters, and feels her tremble when his breath ghosts across her skin. He bumps his nose gently against the bend of her knee.

 

River makes a soft, impatient noise above him and he plants an open-mouth kiss to the crease of her thigh to quiet her. Her leg trembles against his cheek and he cherishes the vulnerability in a way he hadn’t – couldn’t – before. He turns his face into the heat of her core and he hears River breathe in shakily. He feels her quivering fingers thread through his hair. He presses his mouth hungrily to her slick sex and she releases a whimpering cry that curls around his hearts.

 

She tastes like Gallifrey when he kisses her and this is no different. Her cunt is wet and warm and every stroke of his tongue against her sparks a memory – the suns setting on the horizon, the smell of the trees when the wind blew, the red grass tickling his back. She is home more than any planet has ever been and when he nudges his nose against her clit and slips his tongue into her, he _belongs_ in a way he never had on Gallifrey.

 

Above him, River slips her leg over his shoulder, balancing precariously against the wall. The new angle gives the Doctor more room and he opens his mouth wider, nipping and sucking until his mouth and his chin are slick with her. River keens softly and a hot rush of arousal fills his mouth. He groans and swallows it, fingers digging into her thigh.

 

She trembles violently against him, one hand still painfully tight in his hair. She’s close – so very close now. It’s been far too long but he remembers the way she shook when she was on the edge, the desperate way she cried out for him like she was falling and he was the only one capable of catching her.

 

“ _Doctor_.” She tugs on his hair, whinging softly with every frantic rock of her hips against his mouth. “Oh god, honey, please -”

 

Quickly, he replaces his tongue with his two of his fingers, burying them inside of her and watching her eyes fall shut. He smirks. “How’s that?”

 

If she happened to be coherent enough, he imagines she’d have some sassy reply at the ready but instead she nods and whispers, “Yes, _there_ -” He curls his fingers and any other pleas she might have had fall away in place of a scream. The Doctor works her through her climax, lapping at her clit until her hand in his hair slackens and she shudders away from him.

 

He pulls away wiping his mouth and feeling rather smug but the sight that greets him when he looks up at his wife humbles him at once. Leaning against the wall with her eyes shut and her legs still splayed, crimson skirt clutched weakly in her grip and all that golden skin on display, River looks like some sort of wicked daydream. She’s always breathtaking, even sweaty and covered in sand in the middle of the desert when she hasn’t washed in days. There is something indefinably sexy about her at all times. But here, now, he can feel a lump forming in his throat the longer he looks at her.

 

The Doctor quickly works to swallow it, pushing the emotion away. There’ll be plenty of time for sentimentality in the nights to come. This one is for ravishing his wife and he won’t waste a moment of it. Climbing to his feet, he reaches for River and she opens her eyes to beam at him.

 

“Hello.”

 

“Hello.” He raises his brows, wrapping an arm around her waist and pressing his lips beneath her ear. “Alright?”

 

She hums, swaying into him. “My knees are a bit wobbly but the rest of me is divine.”

 

“Glad to hear it, dear.”

 

“Don’t sound so smug,” she murmurs, far too content to scold him properly. He hides a smile in her hair. “I believe you promised me a bed and yet I’ve just come in a bloody corridor.”

 

“You’ve come in worse places before,” he points out, willing to relinquish his hold on her only long enough to push her dress down her hips. It pools on the floor and she’s finally, blessedly naked save for the heels still on her feet but he rather likes the look. No one else can look at once debauched and elegant in naught but heels except his very own bad girl. “At least no one’s shooting at us this time.”

 

“Ever the optimist,” she muses, and pushes gently on his chest. “Bed, honey. Now.”

 

“As you wish.”

 

When she tugs on his hand to drag him along, his mind is instantly filled with handcuffs and deliciously whispered orders and all manner of wicked things his wife loves to indulge in. He tightens his fingers around her hand and slows to a stop. At her curious glance and raised brow, the Doctor sighs and reaches out, brushing her curls from her cheek.

 

“You’ve got twenty-four years to be in charge, River. Not tonight.”

 

She swallows, her green eyes darkening with interest. “Alright, sweetie.”

 

They find their bedroom hand in hand, his jacket around River’s naked shoulders. It doesn’t take them long. The Old Girl must sense his desperation. River is in his arms again the moment the door shuts behind them. The jacket ends up pooled on the floor along with the rest of his clothes, except for the tie, which he offers to her hesitantly. It isn’t the bowtie but River takes it with the same amount of tender reverence, wrapping it securely around her hand and smiling as they tumble into bed together.

 

He doesn’t let himself look around the room at anything, knowing the memories will only distract him. There is only one thing he wants to give all of his attention to right now and she’s looking up at him, curls spread out around her on her pillow and slick heat between her thighs calling to him.

 

He takes a few moments to discover her all over again, remembering what she likes and where she likes it. In the process, he discovers what he likes this go around, intrigued to discover there isn’t much he doesn’t like. He doesn’t let on, knowing once River finds that out for herself, there’ll be no stopping her. He’s rather looking forward to it.

 

After a few minutes spent mapping her freckles with his tongue, River wraps a demanding little hand around his cock and the Doctor can’t help but smile because even when his wife isn’t technically in charge, she still actually is. She lifts her hips eagerly against his as he sinks inside her, moaning aloud until he turns his head and swallows the filthy sounds in a deep, searching kiss.

 

It distracts her long enough for him to get his bearings and he stills once he’s fully seated inside her to shudder and gasp against her mouth. Centuries since he’s been with his wife – he hasn’t been with anyone _since_ her – and the gravity of the moment is enough to make his eyes sting. “River -”

 

She drags her mouth along his jaw. “I know.” Her fingers curl around the back of his neck and her leg is snug around his waist, the heat of her body surrounding his cock. She’s wrapped all around him. He can’t escape her, could very well suffocate in her, and he’s never been so incredibly grateful that she understands what he’s far too cowardly to say out loud. “Show me, darling.”

 

He nods wordlessly, lifting himself up over her. When he begins to move, River’s lips part in a wordless cry and the sight undoes him. He’d had every intention of taking things slow but as she rakes her nails down his back, he tells himself there will be plenty of time for that later.

 

For once, they have so much time.

 

Their breath shudders between them, gasps and moans mingling together until he can’t tell which of them is begging for more and which is offering sweet nothings. River has always liked it a little bit rough but he’d been so hesitant before. This new body of his has no such qualms. He likes biting, likes leaving bruises, likes thrusting hard enough to make River’s desperate cries catch in her throat. He likes making her beg, pinning her hands to the mattress and watching her writhe as he rocks into her. And River is so fucking good at giving him exactly what he likes that his climax catches him entirely by surprise.

 

He bites her shoulder to keep from howling with the force of it, spilling inside her as River pets his hair and whispers encouragement against the shell of his ear. He struggles to catch his breath but River, his insatiable girl, never stops moving. She rolls her hips and fucks herself on him, moaning obscenely – _Doctor, sweetie, oh_ god – until he finally growls and shoves a hand between her thighs, fingering her clit roughly.

 

“Impatient, greedy little -” He bites back a groan when she clenches around him, leaving a trail of uncoordinated, messy kisses along the length of her throat. “Missed you so fucking much -”

 

River finally follows him over the edge with one last hoarse shout and he can do nothing but cling to her as she flutters wildly around him, whispering her name over and over like some incantation capable of making it last forever.

 

They’re both shaking when it’s over, two junkies after a high. The Doctor rolls over and River stretches out against him, her sweat-slicked skin sticky against his. Chest still heaving, he buries a hand in her hair and nuzzles his nose against her temple, far too drained to attempt anything more taxing. He feels raw and exposed, like she’s fucked him inside out. The only thing he feels capable of is resting his cheek against his pillow and gazing at his wife as she regains her breath.

 

She’s beautiful, flushed and glowing and there’s a smile twitching at her mouth that he finds entirely contagious. Voice a soft rasp, he asks smugly, “And what are you grinning about?”

 

Head pillowed on his chest and smiling lips searching out his, River only says, “Magic tricks, sweetie.”


End file.
